


Fractal Visions: FFXIVWrite Prompt Collection

by smollander



Category: FFXIV, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Gen, Other, i apologize for the tone shifts in these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-29 14:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 11,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smollander/pseuds/smollander
Summary: A daily word prompt exercise for FFXIV stuff. Subject, length, all of that varies. Some of these are funny, some are sad. A couple of WoL's based upon my RP characters, whose canons diverge greatly from this. The project was started on Tumblr, the prompts can be found at https://sea-wolf-coast-to-coast.tumblr.com/





	1. voracious

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these prompts are getting re-used for other fic stuff -- if you've read this, congrats, you got the not-so-super-bonus draft of those ideas. There's basically two different AUs going on in these. One of them is your straightforward singular WoL with my RP main, Honoura. The other one is fondly referred to as the "dumbasses of light" AU with my friend avalises, where our RP adopted siblings are all three WoLs together. It's probably only the second worst idea Hydaelyn's ever had.
> 
> There's also a couple of off-shoots with a First Shard character I have, but those are easy to pick out.

He tasted copper and got to his feet. A smug wipe of his mouth smeared the blood across the back of his hand. Aidan had one eye still open and two ribs left that maybe would not be bruised tomorrow. His opponent was, unfortunately, coming out ahead in the scuffle. Worse, he looked bored with it all. 

“Again?” 

“Again,” the hyur replied, rolling one shoulder and raising his fists.

“Dunno why you’re so greedy for your own funeral, mate.”

“Bold of you to think you’ll be the death of me,” Aidan quipped, grinning as widely as his split lower lip would allow. 


	2. lost

He found Ft. Jobb before they ever suggested it to him. By the time he had come to the First the other Scions had found territory to claim. Connections had been made, researching, all the more delicate work done by scholars. He had none of those credentials; no Sharlayan education, no childhood of lectures and libraries.

He also, unlike Thancred, was more of a homebody than he let on. He was also less adept at sticking to the shadows. 

But he did remember soldiering. The smell of boot leather, oil, sweat, dirt. The sound of feet stamping against the dirt in unison, the clang of weapons during drills, even the grousing about bad food (and bad drill instructors). He knew the stares that came with being the new member of a unit and ignored them. Eventually, he would stop being the new guy. It was absurdly comforting; to feel he knew _ something _ in a world he never knew before now. 

None of the new recruits approached him beyond some Exarch-adjacent curiosity; once they knew he was from the same vague place it was the same questions. Did he know him (_Sort of _ ). Did he know the others (_Yes _ ). Was that why he bet with strange money (_Apparently _ ). Could he fight as well as them (_I do alright _). 

He was short with replies, but he answered. It reminded him of another time, years ago. When his uniform was the color of sunshine and his back lacked burn scars. The world had seemed so _ simple _ then. Point the weapon at the enemy and that was all you needed to know. He guessed that was one advantage to the sin eaters. They were the perfect enemy in a sense. Mindless, soulless, they would kill you if you hesitated. Everyone knew _ someone _who had died to an attack or become one. Simple. Perfect.

Then one turn on patrol, his partner for that shift asked. “Are you lost, son?”

Aidan lost a step at the question. “Sorry?”

The elven woman ruefully smiled at him. “You come to us from a mysterious place with a connection to the Exarch and all his other associates from over the years. Strange weapon on your back. They all leave. You stay and plunk yourself in with the rank and file. What for?” They halted in the middle of the road then on the path to Ostall.

Aidan stalled for an answer by way of scuffing his heel against the pale soil, white as the cliffs of La Noscea. 

“I know that look, son,” she kept on,”Served in the Eulmoran army, once. Back when you were probably twice as small as now.” 

He said nothing, but he did angle his head to indicate he was listening. 

“Your whole life is ass over tea kettle. Makes you scared. Makes you want things you recognize. Something you feel _ safe _ in, because you know how it works. What they want. What they ask of you. It’s--”

“Simple,” he said.

She looked surprised; she had expected resistance. Not preaching to the choir. But maybe that had been unfair. He looked younger than he carried himself, after all. Unfairly younger.

“I had a place before. Now it’s gone. Everything changed on me.” His words were measured, but he had started tugging on his gloves like a nervous boy. The elf took a moment to check their surroundings rather than speak. 

“Ah. Aye, that’s always a mess. You think you found your way until suddenly you’re right back where you started.” She gave him a push to keep walking; he managed to keep pace despite being significantly shorter,”Won’t find what you’re looking for here though.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Can’t find anything ahead if you’re looking back, son.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #3: lost
> 
> I skipped adding the second because I wrote it for someone else entirely.


	3. shifting blame

“So what do _ you _ think of him?”

“Few things. Which opinion you want?”

“Trustworthy.”

“As much as anybody else we trusted.” Aidan commented, a touch of derision from his first day still there,”If he has some other agenda I haven’t found it out.” Yet.

“Examples?”

“Everyone else here, really. They’re a good lot. They all follow him."

“Is he hiding anything?”

“He’s hiding a **lot** of things.” 

The pair walked on in silence for a few moments, matching strides. They had decided to meet nearish the Crystalline Mean -- anyone around would be too busy to listen in, and asides from the rookery one couldn’t wander much further without leaving safety. 

Honoura had been encouraged to see about her room at the Pendants -- _ get some rest _, he said, and had proceeded to do the opposite. She’d already come as bidden and taken a whirlwind tour at the Exarch’s insistence. If this was truly to be an undertaking of her choice, she’d make choices. Like picking her own damn bedtime.

All three of them together were siblings, but only two of them had used the same crib growing up. And what Honoura wanted was a frank opinion on a man from the sibling who _ wasn’t _ smitten with him. She was tired of trusting people who could recite eloquent turns of praise about her whilst either keeping her in the dark or using her as a means to an end. Gods knew she had plenty of that back on the Source; she wasn’t keen on cozying up to _ another _head of state. Good intentions or not.

Her brother furrowed his brow and shoved his hands in his pockets,”His real name, for one. Exarch’s just a title -- anybody who knows him by anything else is either tight-lipped or dead. How he got the Tower here, for another, when it’s still sitting outside Mor Dhona back home.”

“But you have a hunch who it is,” Honoura replied, to which Aidan nodded. “Only one person we ever knew who could control it. I just play along at this point.”

“Avali knows?”  
  
“If not from day one then soon after.”

“Do you think he admitted it to her at least?”

“I stopped asking.”

“Terrific,” she muttered, massaging a palm of her hand and staring out at the strange horizon. The Light was beautifully oppressive, a sickly golden yellow pallor that strangely gave no warmth. A century of basking in it made the mountains appear chalky, to say nothing of the violet hue on all the tree leaves outside the city. A fading world, slowly being leached of life and color. 

“Is it as bad as he says?” Honoura glanced up at her brother, who didn’t hesitate.”It’s worse. I thought Cartenau looked bad. I thought the Coils looked bad. Here?” Aidan pulled one hand out to gesture to the whole of the horizon.

“Sun never sets. Sun never rises. Things die, _ people _die, or sometimes they suffer worse.” He didn’t specify what, but he’d gone several shades paler. But bringing up the Calamity had never come easy to him. 

“You felt the aether right?” She nodded in response. “It’s all sick like that. All over.”

Honoura pressed her lips together in a line; they idled in silence. Around them, the din of crafters busy at their work filtered through the air. Mentors corrected their apprentices, people bartered for a better price, occasionally someone dropped a crate and cursed aloud. Lively sounds. **Living** sounds. Despite the land doing its best to die.

"Wish it never got framed as a choice. You and the Scions and Ava are all stuck here."

"Ease the guilt probably. About the mistakes." Aidan turned his back to the vista and leaned against the railing, idly scanning the crowd. 

"His guilt turns into _ my _responsibility," Honoura retorted, sharply. 

“I never said I _ liked it _ ,” he shot back,”I hate it, all right? Hate how this happened. Hate being put upon. But it has been a _ year _for me here. A year.”

“... Sorry.” She already knew she'd be saying yes, but it was the nature of it. There were personal stakes, _ incredibly personal. _There was the fact she couldn't have eluded the calling anyway. A choiceless choice. Now it felt like the journey from the Source was catching up; scarcely a day here and already bone weary.

“Hey.”

An elbow lightly jostled her; an all too familiar gesture. A subtle way for her brother to check in. A year apart for him. Did this make them the same age now? What else would change.

“‘Tis not fair.”

“Usually not, no.” He cracked a faint smile.

"Well. S'pose we best get to it then."

"Lead on, sis." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #4: shifting blame
> 
> Honoura and Aidan are both RP characters first and foremost. Their backstory as WoLs is incredibly different than their in-game shenanigans. But there's still a few things, and also is it obvious I love siblings? I love siblings. There's a third sibling, Avali, who belongs to a friend. Which is another carry over from rp that post-Shadowbringers we both said 'WE MAKE THIS'.


	4. vault

Tataru finally found her sitting on the floor in her old room. There was a year (or more)’s worth of dust atop the dresser and other furnishings; one window had been opened to try and abate the mustiness. A small rosewood chest (also dusty judging by the fingerprints left on the lid) sat open at the foot of her bed, its contents scattered about. And in the middle of the field of debris sat a petite hyur known to many as _ the _eponymous Warrior of Light.

Honoura was leafing through some old book when Tataru knocked to announce her presence, closing it quick and setting it down. 

“_There _ you are. I was looking all over for you!” she said, her cheer masking her worry. So many of the others had already disappeared when Tataru wasn’t looking. Were she miqo’te, an ear would have flicked back in response. But lacking that tell, the midlander resigned herself to setting reveries aside.

“Sorry. I came in looking for something and-” there was a half-hearted wave of her hand,”Ah. Well.” Some were folded, some opened. Notes, letters, rushed scribbles of something or other. Some crude drawings (maybe Alphinaud’s?). There were items too; stones, pieces of shell, bird feathers -- was that a kupo nut? And the old charm Tataru had made for her. Before the incident in Ul’dah. 

Honoura gingerly picked it up and fiddled with it in her hands. One hand was still tightly bandaged. The Ghimlyt Dark did not reside far in the past. An odd look crossed her face; for a moment Tataru swore she almost looked lost. It didn’t last -- almost as quickly the hyur fixed a more focused, resolved expression. The face that stared down dragons, princes, and gods. The look that had carried the lalafell and Alphinaud to Ishgard.

“What did you need?”she asked, carefully putting the different knicknacks away into her personal vault. A piece of a Maelstrom uniform. A thoroughly weatherbeaten diary with a card (the Balance) tucked inside.

“The Sons of St. Coinach said they found a path to the base of the Crystal Tower.”

“Oh.” With a resounding thunk of the lid, she rose to her feet. Had she always been this petite? She seemed so tall from afar, “S’pose we ought to see what this beacon is all about then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #5: vault


	5. first step

“Careful…”

“Always am.”

“Total rubbish,” she said, tone light but eyes firm,”You’re going to get  _ caught. _ ”

“You worry too much,” he reached for another handhold, found it, and hauled himself upwards. Most of Mor Dhona was asleep at this point save a handful of guards, and they had the wildlife to contend with. By comparison, Aidan was incredibly tame. 

Even if his sister down on the ground begged to differ.

“Because you never worry at  _ all thanks _ .” He didn’t hear Honoura scramble up after him, but he did feel the tug on his boot.

“What are we doing?” she asked. He tried not to grin too widely at the responsibility shift as he reached down to give her a hand up to his level.

You had to be malms back to see all of the Crystal Tower properly. Even then, the view from the ground was lacking. The view from the cliffs of Mor Dhona, however, turned it into a bright blue needle piercing the heavens. If you had told either of them growing up that they would soon step inside it...

“Wow.”

“Mhm.”

“Did you show this to Ava?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“ _ She’s _ been busy,” he chuckled, as Honoura raised her eyebrows and grinned,” _ Really? _ ”

“The historian.”

“Figures.”

“Mhm.” They clung to the rocks a while longer, watching the giant shard shimmer and sparkle in the aether ravaged haze of Mor Dhona’s skies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #6: first step


	6. forgiven

Fortemps Manor was quiet that late; the only companions still awake with her were the crackling logs in the fireplace and the ticking chronometer on the wall. Last she looked at it, it read a quarter bell past one. Whether that was minutes or bells ago she could not tell, too busy with the task at hand. Quill scratched against parchment, pages at a time. The passages in the journal were rife with spelling errors and crossed out phrases. A jar of ink carefully balanced atop the mound of blanket covering one of her knees. The sound and smell of a cup of hot tea being set next to her on the sofa are the first clue she isn’t alone in the after-midnight vigil. That it is Alphinaud and not Tataru bearing this offering did surprise her; Honoura stared for a moment or two. The silence dragged long enough she felt compelled to say _ something _, anything.

“I thought I was the only one awake.” She stared at him, a blanket cocooned around her, nothing visible but the hand set to writing and her head. 

He coughed once to clear his throat. “My apologies for startling you.” By the look of things, if the boy had slept it had been poorly. His hair, typically in _ artful _ disarray, had morphed into something akin a dandelion. Disheveled and reaching a dozen different directions rather than carefully combed to fall in his face. He looked paler, but Honoura chalked it up to the late hour. Coerthas had a habit of washing everyone out. Even she felt muted. Regardless, he’d been awake long enough to put on a robe over his nightclothes and don a pair of slippers. Smarter than her, she thought, with her bare feet dangling and chilled.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, the tips of his ears flushed pink. There’s a wordless scooting, a silent acceptance of his company. They both sat and sipped for a time, Honoura resting the saucer atop her scrawls for the moment.

“Might I ask what you’re writing?” he dared broach the question. He had never taken her for a scholar; then again, he hadn’t taken her for much of anything than his enforcer for a time. The key to his plan to help Eorzea. When that fell apart, it was his turn to follow her, the icy cold winds both outside Ishgard’s doors and in. The greater duress they were under, the more she took to looking after him. A reserved older sister, not terribly coddling but reliable. More than once he wondered if maybe she’d gone along with his Crystal Braves folly just to keep an eye on him. How many eyerolls at his expense had Riol been privy to?

Now she looked sheepish, embarrassed even.

“I’m trying to draft a letter. But um.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m. I’m not very good with the wording.”

“Given the barbs you and Estinien exchange I’d have thought otherwise.” The quip earned him a snort of amusement.

“Estinien’s easier to read. And it’s…” Honoura held her tea cup with both hands and huffed. “I am not very educated. This has to sound **right**.”

“Who is the recipient, if you don’t mind.” 

Her gaze trailed upstairs, and Alphinaud surmised it traced the way to the master chambers.

“A show of gratitude?”

“Apology.”

Alphinaud bristled at that word,“It wasn’t your fault.”

"That does not sound like a helpful critique of my grammar, Alphinaud." She tapped the side of her teacup.

"You don't need to-"

"His son is dead, he is owed somethi-"

"Which you gave in his foyer the day it _ happened _ and he forgave _ \- _"

“That is _ not the point! _ ” She hissed, slamming the teacup down hard enough to chip the saucer."Oh, _ shite _-" Honoura leaned down to set it on the floor, withdrawing thoroughly into her blanket cocoon after. Cowed by the outburst, Alphinaud sat there, eyes downcast. The chronometer ticked on, marching towards dawn. He had begun to nod off when finally, a confession.

“He deserves better than what I gave him.” Hesitantly, she nudged the journal towards Alphinaud, before withdrawing again. “Both of them.” When he didn’t make a move to pick up the diary, she tacked on a quiet ‘sorry’. Eventually, she nodded off, the journal still laying in her lap untouched. There was a crick in her neck and her mouth was dry when she awoke. Weak sunlight streamed in through the windows; the fire in the hearth burned lively and anew. Clearly some part of the household was awake. The teacups and Alphinaud were both gone. In his place was her journal, the quill tucked inside to mark a place and the pot of ink set on top.

The marked page said plenty when she opened it up. _ I made some suggestions on the next page for you. _   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #7: forgiven


	7. hesitate

For being a market on a wounded world, the Crystarium boasted an astonishing variety of wares. Aidan had lamented the first time he wandered in that his coin purse hadn’t made the trip over. A blessing then, that his elder sister’s had.  Doubly so that Honoura had given it to him with strict instructions on what supplies  _ to  _ buy, but no stipulations on what he could not. Either she was growing forgetful, he thought, or it was a tacit way of expressing relief.  _ Gone for sennights on her end. Me and Avali both.  _ No wonder she had kept so close those first couple of days. 

No wonder too that the look on her face just before she spied him outside the Ocular was a deeply furrowed scowl aimed squarely at the back of the Exarch’s head as she followed a few steps behind him.  _ Never was any good about going it alone _ . And given the state of things back home… well.  Some small indulgence then. He could make some proper coin to make up the difference when Honoura and the rest were doing the real work. The question was what to get. The baked goods were all liable to go stale or be crushed -- bit of a failure to cheer up his eldest sister if she forgot to  _ eat  _ the thing before it was reduced to crumbs in her bag. Rolanberries also seemed to not exist in Norvrandt. At least, not that he’d found yet, who knew. Have to find something local, then. 

It was the vivid blue of it that caught his eye, among the caramels and meringues and mints. The culinarian said they were purely made of sugar, with a bit of fruit dye for color. So close to the hue of the Crystal Tower, Aidan  _ almost _ believed they were selling pieces chipped from its base wholesale.  _ Blue as that crystal on the Exarch’s- _ his thoughts came to a screeching halt, and he grinned broadly. This would work. This would work  _ very _ well. If Avali lacked in one way it was subtlety. Decision made; he was getting them. 

“Beg pardon?” he said, waving at a shopkeep behind the counter,”How much for three of these?”

A couple of bells later back at the Pendants, he interrupted the muffled chattering outside with a couple of sharp raps against the door, balancing a bag full of wares on one hip to keep a hand free. 

_ “So there we are without a stitch in the middle-” _ Avali pried the door open enough to peek out,”And speaking of.” 

“Of what, me being naked with you?” Aidan quipped, sliding in after the (slightly) more petite of his sisters here. He didn’t know  _ exactly what  _ their subject of conversation had been. It didn’t matter; she left an opening, he’d take it and drive it headlong into the gutter when he got the chance. 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a lightened coin purse and tossed it at the other sitting at the table,”Pinched a bit extra out, pay you back?”   
  
“With the borrowed shirt off your back?” Honoura teased lightly, letting the bag of coins land on the table with a jingly thud,”So what’d you bring us?”

“Besides what you meant to get,” Avali chirped, plunking down on another empty seat.

“Took a bit of inspiration from  _ you _ actually, sister,” he plucked the smallest parcel, a thin paper bag, off the bundle of supplies and handing it to the white haired miqo’te,”I couldn’t find any regular desserts. Had some candy though.” Avali had already opened the bag to peek inside. And then paused. She looked up at her brother, tail twitching. 

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Rock candy, ‘parently. Ought to be called sugar crystals, it’s all it’s made of,” he said, in the middle of setting potion bottles on the table with gentle clinks.

“I see they’re blue,” she remarked, tail still lashing back and forth fiercely.

“Blue’s a nice color, I think,” he replied breezily, which earned him a couple of snorts of amusement from the two women in the room,”Kinda reminds you of someone doesn’t it?” 

His blood relative in the room pretended to count out her money, one ear open for where this was really going. It was going to be lewd. She knew it. They were all together again for more than a bell. Honoura was surprised they’d even made it this long. She also wondered how the Crystarium had managed the both of them unsupervised. Unsupervised for the better part of a  _ year  _ on their end, even.

“Mhm,” was all Avali committed to, pulling one stick of the homemade candy out and passing it to Honoura before taking her own. The bag with the last one made its way back to Aidan, who promptly picked up his and waved it at Avali,“Also, I figured, if you need practicing, candy’s easier than the real thing.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, grinning. “Wouldn’t want to get thrown off by the texture, aye?”

Avali looked at him, one eyebrow quirked, holding her own rock candy stick. She didn’t hesitate; it disappeared into her mouth and down her throat until her lips were kissing her own fingertips holding the wooden stick. When Aidan gaped, the miqo’te looked away from him, giving Honoura a smug look that crowed ‘ _ look what I did!’  _ The challenge had been issued; now he felt he either had to concede who was dirtier or try to one up her. 

“Impressive,” he clapped lightly with one hand against his wrist,”But what about your tongue work?” To demonstrate, he ran his own tongue along the length of the candy treat, slowly, giving them both a wink to confirm that yes, it was  _ exactly _ what it looked like.  Both received a deadpan response of,”You’re both insufferable,” followed with a very loud crunch. Honoura chewed loudly (possibly to drown out the sucking noises from  _ both _ of them), and wiped her mouth. About a quarter of the top of her candy had disappeared. “I thought Mum told you not to play with your food.” In unison, the two delinquents paused, pretended to think it over, and shrugged in unison.

“She’s not here,” Aidan quipped,”You’re likely to have better luck wrangling the sin eaters, Sis.” He stuck his own candy in his mouth almost as far down his throat as Avali to emphasize his point.

Avali, taking a hint, ever so slowly withdrew her own candy rod from her mouth, giving it a quick peck of a kiss to be cheeky. “What would you do without us anyway?” Honoura stuck out her tongue at both of them, and for a few more minutes they were  _ all  _ twelve again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #9: hesitate
> 
> I stand by this dick joke. Forever.


	8. under the weight

Did the ground still shiver from residual tremors, or her knees? The private took a shaky breath, then another, willing her legs to feel less like jelly. Titan was vanquished. That  _ should  _ make her thrilled, theoretically. The Echo had keened a warning in her head for the worst dangers -- most the rest of the party fared much worse. A chance strike with a sword dropped by one of her fellow soldiers when they’d been swept away.  _ Thank the Twelve.  _ But the victory had not come cheap. She wobbled over to a crumpled figure, half-buried under debris. The adventurer from the Scions. 

Honoura had met her one other time; a recruitment push by the Admiral to lure her to the Maelstrom at the Waking Sands. She’d demurred, the midlander recalled. Chose the Flames instead. Something about doing Ala Mhigo proud. Not that it mattered, she’d shown up anyway when news of the summoning broke. That  _ probably _ meant the membership was lip service. Before they had set out a few had remarked how she reminded them of the Warriors of Light at Cartenau, faintly. Honoura had only half listened -- she hadn’t been there for the Calamity. She seemed friendly; she’d definitely taken prepping her own banquet in better spirits than Honoura would have. The rest didn’t seem like it mattered much.

It mattered even less now that she was clawing at stones to pry the woman free. Her breastplate had been almost completely caved in; immediately, she shucked a glove off and held it over the highlander’s mouth.  _ Still breathing _ , she thought. Faintly, though. 

* * *

“Ma’am.  _ Ma’am _ . Ma’am please wake up,” she prodded, clasping her hands when one eye did finally crack open. The joy was short-lived when she coughed up a spattering of blood. 

“How… the prim...pri,” she wheezed.

“Dead, ma’am.”   
  
“H-how.”   
  
“Me, ma’am,” Honoura admitted, and flinched when her breath hitched,”The. The rest of the squadron will be here soon, just. Just hold tight, yeah?”

She chuckled, looking at her with fading eyes,”Nay. I’m…’bout done. But you.” She twitched a couple of fingers in her direction. “Her Blessing. Go… Vesper. Sands-”

“The Scions?” Honoura answered for her, stomach twisting when she nodded,”But. I. I don’t’ know what--”   
  
“Me neither,” she smiled faintly,”Find yer way.”

“I am very bad at that.”

“Try…. please,” the eyes were fluttering shut as the breath Honoura had searched for grew shallower. The adventurer failed to hear her whispered ‘I’ll try’. But she also was spared catching the uncertainty in Honoura’s voice.

_Hear. Feel. Think._ Bells later, Honoura looked up from a mug of something hot (and very whiskey-laden) at the sound of the words. Was it a sound? There was nobody else seated at the campfire -- the rest of the Maelstrom soldiers either stood at their posts or attended other duties. So who’d said that. She strained her ears to listen closer, filtering out the camp sounds for a better read on that voice. A sudden weight fell in her coat pocket. The crystal fit in the palm of her hand, radiating a soft glow and warmth, unnaturally so. _Hear. Feel. Think._ The words rattled again in her head. Taking a long draw from her mug, she tucked the bauble back in her pocket and began to mentally write the request to be given leave for a trip to Thanalan.

* * *

The  _ smell _ tipped it off before the quiet. The coppery scent wafted up to the first floor and hit her nose. The door downstairs being difficult to open did naught to allay her suspicions. When she finally squeezed in, her boot found a dark, sticky puddle immediately. A “Twelve forfend” broke the silence of the place with carefully placed footsteps. Bodies littered the Waking Sands; this had not been a battle. Butchery, more like it. She poked her head in every room, hope losing to reality. Plenty of bodies, but the miqo’te woman known to be a Scion not among them.  _ Mayhap she fled. Or wasn’t here. _ There had to be someone --  _ anyone _ who hid or was hiding here. 

“Oi,” Honoura called out, softly,”Anybody here?  **Alive** ? I’m.” She waffled on just  _ what  _ to call herself specifically there. “Your friend sent me. The adventurer.” No response.

_ Maybe that office from before. _ The antecedent’s door was surprisingly easy to open. It had unsurprisingly been looted. But there was no sign of the woman’s body.  _ Alive maybe, yeah? _ Honoura bit her lip; she hoped the absence meant something positive. A rustling noise -- like leaves on a forest floor, caught her ear, until the Echo from the lone sylph survivor caught up with the rest of her.

* * *

“I’m still not sure what I’m doin’, honestly,” the words hung in the air as Honoura sat by the Mark of Azeyma. Fireflies danced about, gently winking in and out. Everything after that day under the mountain felt like a breathless haze. The Waking Sands, rescuing the Scions, Operation Archon. 

_ Ashes fell like snow in and around the ruins of the Praetorium, whipping through the superheated air from still-burning fires. The last Scion was sprawled unconscious in the backseat of the magitek. Was the burning smell the engine burning out or her own hair caught aflame? And what of -- what was it -- Lahabrea? Who even  _ ** _was_ ** _ he? _

“It’s all gotten more complicated than when we met. I don’t know who… what. Those Ascians? Did you know them? Did you meet them?” Honoura idly twirled a blade of grass between her fingers. What would  **she ** have done? Had her Blessing prepared her for any of this? Would that she’d have lived.

“They miss you still. The looks on their faces when we raided Centri… I. I think they’d been hoping for you,” she took a breath,”I waited. Until it was over. ‘Til that Thancred fellow was better. Probably didn’t need to but. Didn’t seem fair to give them that news when there were Garleans breathing down our necks.” There’d been a lot of hasty drawing up of paperwork since then, too. Airship permits, a couple of promotions snuck in courtesy of the Admiral. A  _ lot _ of unexpected attention from people she’d previously seen from the back of the room.  The midlander scooted closer to the edge of the cliff, feet dangling off. It was a comfortable feeling, reminiscent of long summer days high in Shroud canopy. Somehow she felt more grounded than all the malms she’d walked since leaving Camp Bronze Lake. 

“I know you asked me to try but. This. And I am. I just.”  _ Hear. Feel. Think. _ “I just think there’s plenty others. Better choices. Better than me.”  _ Hear. Feel. Think.  _ Honoura rubbed her temple; it hadn’t hurt this badly since that primal roar celebrating the Garleans’ defeat.  ** _Hear. Feel. Think._ **

“I’m  **trying** !” she snapped, loud enough there was an echo across the ridge,”All right? I’m trying. I’ll try.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Free Prompt day: under the weight
> 
> Who likes a WoL origin story? A WoLigin story, as it were.


	9. foster

Aidan was the first one who started feeding the strays. Nothing large -- scraps left on plates after meal time finished that weren’t earmarked to be reconstituted into a stock or a stew. It typically took two days to accrue enough to make a worthwhile offering; he counted about half a dozen cats, some of who were excellent mousers.

Not enough to replace their primary meals, but enough to be a decent treat. He knew enough from his childhood that you didn’t leave food out where you sheltered -- pests would find it quicker than you gave them credit every time. He couldn’t pet any of the adults, but whenever treat time rolled around they perched on rocks and crevices leading to the feeding spot, mewling and begging like they were starved. 

None of them had names, not traditional monikers anyway. They had descriptors like Ragged Ears, One Eye, No Tail, and Soot Face. For the most part he referred to any cat younger than that first group collectively as ‘the kittens’. They were mildly friendlier, eager to play with chocobo feathers on a string or pounce at his boots when he walked by. He had been in the middle of coaxing Spriggan (black with yellow eyes, loved to jump) to approach him for pets when they abruptly ‘left’ for Coerthas. 

It is moons later, after the end of a thousand year war and the loss of Minfilia to another star before he can duck out again. This time with a little extra. Or maybe a lot extra -- for all he knew the entire collective abandoned the space or was chased off by merchants.

“Well who fattened you lot up?” he asked, staring at no less than four that he recognized and three half grown kittens (not  _ his _ kittens but another litter) sprawled on the ground. There were two bowls left sitting out clearly for the animals, picked clean. 

“I leave for a little while and you all become lazy bastards.” He chuckled a couple of times, doling out his own spoils to add to their clearly generous helpings. It felt worth it when Spriggan appeared out of the shadows and, in a display of unashamed hamming, rubbed against both his legs. When the Domans finally left for their home again, Spriggan went with them. Aidan figured it was the least he could do for the kids taking such good care of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #10: foster


	10. fingers crossed

“So explain this to me again. Like I’m seven.”   
  
“ _ I just told you _ -”

“Aye you did, but please.” Aidan repeated, and even threw in a feigned expression of optimism. For his sister’s sake. But he wanted to make a point nonetheless; it was the principle of the thing. The principle of being a baby brother.

“Cid’s going to drag a deposit of crystal large enough for Bismarck to consider consuming. We’ll be atop so we can reach it,” Honoura repeated, tiredly, the type of exhaustion when a sibling has gotten on your last nerve,”It’s… fishing.” Her face crumpled sourly. 

“So all that genius. And his idea is we go fishing.”

“Correct.”

“Well.” He snorted,”Fingers fucking crossed he doesn’t swallow his bait whole, huh?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #12: fingers crossed


	11. wax

The odd lack of crunch should have been his first clue something was amiss with the apple. Maybe the odd texture, but Aidan had been hungry enough he hadn’t cared to question just  _ why  _ someone left a bowl overladen with fruit in their parlor. He never saw that much in his own kitchen growing up, let alone just out in the open like that. Was it for the staff? For snacks?

By the second chew he had learned quickly. One, nobility did not keep random foodstuffs out in a parlor even if they could. Even Ishgardian ones. Two, this wasn’t fruit, it was  _ wax fruit _ . Three, he needed somewhere to hide the evidence he had just tried to eat it. Aidan quickly cased the rest of the parlor, frantically looking for anything. He knew he was the equivalent of a gutter rat, he didn’t need evidence of it laying around in the open.

The staff clearing the fireplace of its ashes was dreadfully confused to find a solidified puddle of wax mixed with soot in the hearth two days later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #13: wax


	12. scour

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The scoured earth of Cartenau still possessed a hard outer shell. It gave under even the lightest of footfalls, of which there were a few pockmarking. Dust wafted up with every step, curling up and through the still air. Even animals avoided the barren, ashen plains. 

And why would they come here? The atmosphere felt  _ dead _ ; as it must have ever since the Calamity. The Echo whispered, trying to say something. She shook her head to brush it off. She didn’t want to read the memories of a graveyard. They shaped the whole landscape -- in the broken shards of magitek and weaponry scattered about. The fragmented remains of uniforms and army standards too, scattered amongst huge crystalline shards of aether. You didn’t need a memory. The bones said enough.

And yet here they were: her, Yugiri, Gosetsu, Yda, Cid, and _Nero_ _tol Scaeva _of all people, all looking for something to stave off another Calamity. Or further it along; the Ironworks might cut Scaeva slack. Honoura was less forgiving of the three-eyed weasel. Particularly when his idea involved him acquiring access to Allagan technology. _Again. _

As Nero lead the way to Omega’s burial ground, another memory rattled in Honoura’s head.  _ Forge a better path. Seize a better fate.  _ Had she done that here? Was this gamble the best idea?  _ Do we not risk repeating the mistakes of the Allagans she’d said, so why are we out here why did I say yes. _ Or was she just following along again, doing as someone bid because the real chance had passed her by when Ilberd first betrayed them all. Back when Alphinaud was playing pretend at savior of a realm, and she played at little more than his enforcer for lack of ideas on what else to do. 

She left no room for herself to debate or argue then; it felt no different now. Because they  _ needed _ her (well not her, specifically). Because she was  _ useful _ that way to them. The rare card you kept in your Triad deck for an easy victory. She wished there had been a chance to ask that dead man for better advice.  _ What do you do when everything’s pulling you too fast? _

Until something happened to her, then they’d slot in a replacement. There’d be a need for adjustment of course. But Hydaelyn had done it before. Maybe the only better fate she could try for was an escape to solitude, to be no one again. Fading was softer than burning out. And she had burned brightly.

“Now where was the…? Ah!”

As the control panel, Allagan tech older than the mausoleum surrounding it, she thought,  _ Well. Too late to stray from this specific path. Sorry.  _

“I’ve enabled the teleporter. One brief jump, and we shall arrive in Omega’s control room.”  They would all have to hope it led to something better than catastrophe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #14: scour


	13. jitter

“Aaaaand emboite! Entrechat! Pirouette! And finish!” Avali’s feet jittered against the floor, light as flower petals, her toes perfectly pointed even without shoes on. The facade of effortlessness was the result of a lot of practice (and aether manipulation). But comparatively Aidan felt leaden and slow -- his steps were half a beat slow. He was fairly sure he had cracked a toe bone. A bad stumble made his weaker knee scream in protest. 

By the end of the lesson he was bruised, sweating, and thought maybe it was preferable to find a quiet corner to perish. Or maybe he’d just die right there. He was already crumpled on the floor. In contrast, Avali looked flawlessly fresh save for a sheen of sweat. He felt keenly tempted to swear at the sight.

“You did well on the jete!” She threw a towel, which he caught with his face as he attempted to pry himself upright.

“Is that why my calves are screaming?” he asked, wincing. Oh, no, those were his thighs yelling. Gods take him.   
  
“If you’re sore now, just wait until we start your arm work for the chakrams.”   
  
“_I'__m so excited. _” Why had he volunteered for this again? Had it been his knee? Was it really so hard to swing a sword instead. Unfortunately it was too late now -- Avali would either whip him into shape as a dancer or he’d die in the attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #16: jitter


	14. obeisant

Lyse and Alisaie waited until hours later, when most everyone was asleep, to crawl out of their own bedding. Not that they had slept at all; there had been too many silent exchanges of shock and giddiness. The need to gossip struck them both feverishly. So now they sat, each with a cup of tea (both to imbibe and use as a cover) and shared wicked faces.

“So. _ Koto Shinonome _.”

“Have you ever seen her-” Lyse asked, Alisaie shaking her head before the question finished forming.  
  
“Never!”

“Not even Raubahn?”  
  
“Y’shtola told me she used to be Maelstrom. I saw her give something of a salute once. But nothing so formal.”   
  
“She didn’t even bow to Hien like that when we first met him!”

“_Hien _? Psh, from what Alphinaud tells me she never gave an onze of obeisance to any of the nobility there at all,” Someone stirred at that scoff, prompting Alisaie to look over her shoulder. After a few moments of intense listening with her elezen ears, she returned to the topic at hand. Namely, the Warrior of Light showing some form of deference to a leader that was genuine.

“Makes one wonder what they saw in each other, doesn’t it?” 

“I dunno. She was helpful in taking Doma Castle, sure. But Gosetsu made it sound like none of the resistance here was making headway,” Lyse shrugged, and loudly sipped,”But trying to get Honoura to tell me anything is like squeezing water from a stone.”

“Maybe you just didn’t ask the right one,” Alisaie offered, diplomatically, keeping a lid on the fact it was the “_ lying about your identity” _ aspect.

“Maybe.”

“None of the others back home are going to believe us, are they?”  
  
“Not for a bloody minute.” They both dissolved into giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #17: obeisant. Koto Shinonome belongs to my friend Latte; both she and Koto are of the highest quality.


	15. wilt

“Oh no! Oh no no no, ohhhh.” The source of Tataru’s distress sat on a windowsill. A sennight ago it had been a flourishing miniature cherry tree. But that had been a sennight ago. When its mistress was still on this star.  Now its branches were barren, leaves scattered about, and Tataru had no idea why. Honoura had left notes! Why was it dead! Oh gods, what if it was really dead.

“No no no where am I going to  _ find _ another one of you! You were a  **gift** from Doma,” she clucked, lightly gripping a small branch and wincing when it snapped off easily. Maybe there was a way. She could call in a favor with Hancock! There was bound to be time, right?

“Maybe she won’t notice if you change pots before she gets back,” the lalafell reasoned, flourished with a smile of someone doing their best to cope with an unforeseen disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #18: wilt


	16. radiant

_ Taken from a page in a badly damaged journal: _

**Pragma**

> Initially known as one of the Crystal Exarch’s companions, the winged terror who came to be known as the Lightwarden Pragma hailed from another land. With her came hope of salvation… until the death of Lord Vauthry at the summit of Mt. Gulg. Stricken with Light’s corruption, she disappeared shortly after the Exarch vanished himself from the mountaintop.
> 
> Everyone, including her closest companions, puzzled over where she might have gone. Until a terrible Light shone forth from beneath the waves of the Tempest; it’s said when she took flight from beneath the sea t'was accompanied by the tunes of a ghostly melody. There was an incessant ticking throughout Kholusia. It soon became her roost. Fae King Titania is said to have mourned her arrival with a cry of “Oh, my sapling.”
> 
> Hers is a radiant and despairing countenance. We are all doomed to perish beneath her wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #19: radiant
> 
> So who likes a Bad Ending?


	17. bisect

A piece of a transcript of an interview, first run in _The Raven_, during the peace talks to negotiate the end of the Dragonsong War. The interviewer, Kipih Jakkya is identified as “K”. The Warrior of Light is identified as “H”. It is important to note that this is not the full transcript nor the version of the interview that went to press. It seems it was cut, though Kipih saved this portion.

> H: Before and after.
> 
> K: Could you tell me what you mean?
> 
> H: It’s. [pause] Well, look at you. There’s a then and now for you. Back then, sometime, you started with the Raven, yeah? 
> 
> K: Yes!
> 
> H: And now here you are, talking to me. Someone saw what you did and pushed you a little further. Your efforts back then in the past paid off for you now. I remember reading your piece just before the Calamity in Buscarron’s Druthers, worrying about the moon. Hadn’t even left for Limsa yet.
> 
> K: So you are saying you do not look at your achievements the same way?
> 
> H: No. Before. The before I started, I was no one. I had no plans to be anyone. I was a green recruit picked for an assignment concerning a primal. It went… badly. 
> 
> K: I remember reading about that in the Harbor Herald.
> 
> H: But if I was never there, I wouldn’t be here.
> 
> K: No? Are you sure you are not just downplaying your own accomplishments?   
  
H: No, I’m sure. You would be talking to someone else. Maybe she would have done things different. Better or worse. You would still be here. But not me. This is the After. It’s a sharp line, it… my life is split very cleanly. Titan and everything after did that.
> 
> K: What  _ do  _ you think of your accomplishments then, if I may ask? Certainly no one expected an end to a thousand years of war!
> 
> H: I killed a man. And watched some others die. The ones that did had more of a stake in this. It wasn’t fair.
> 
> K: But Ser Aymeric credits you with helping uncover the truth about King Thordan, how they betrayed the dragons’ trust won by Shiva.
> 
> H: Him and a dragon are the ones talking peace now. If you want to talk about the end of a war best you go to them. I ran to Ishgard to escape a bad banquet, remember?
> 
> K: I think your admirers would find you too modest!
> 
> H: Mayhap. What sort of article is this for?
> 
> K: It is to be a personal insight piece! A chance for people to learn more about you on a personal level.
> 
> H: Oh.
> 
> H: Then I stand by what I said. Please put it in.
> 
> K: I understand. Might I ask instead then: with the war ended and you and the Scions' good name restored in Eorzea, what are your plans for the future?
> 
> H: I don't know. I couldn't say. 
> 
> K: Truly? An adventurer such as you?
> 
> H: This was never my intent. For all I know tomorrow I shall be in Thavnair.
> 
> K: [laughs] Fair enough, though you cannot deny it wouldn't be exciting.
> 
> H: Mayhap I'm not the only one at this table curious about going another way.
> 
> K: Mayhap! But I must say I think I'm the only one here enjoying her work!
> 
> H: I thought I had been more than clear.
> 
> K: But surely-
> 
> H: Not one whit. 
> 
> [end of interview]

  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #20: bisect


	18. crunch

They tiptoed down the hall towards the exit through the kitchens, boots held in their hands. Once they were clear the hardwood floor they slipped them on, filched some food from the larder, and went outside to a world with a barely lit sky.

The air was  **bracing** ; their breath froze into miniature clouds immediately. Honoura felt jolted into wide awake, cheeks reddening in the cold. The fresh snowfall overnight had hardened. It was sparkling and pristine, completely untouched. Aidan took the fall of ruining that landscaped by being the first to reach down and get to work. Each scoop of snow crunched as it was gathered and shaped into its new role of frozen artillery. Occasionally, one or both of them paused to stuff their mouths with the icy powder, giggling. 

None of Edmont’s neighbors at the time appreciated the two (later four despite Alphinaud’s protests) of them having a snowball fight. To their benefit, he kept his chuckling to a minimum when they later recanted their opinions out in public. Who’d confess to annoyance at the defenders of Eorzea at a social function, after all?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #21: crunch


	19. parched

“I cannot believe we have managed to find an entire village of cheeky little imps who refuse to lend an onze of help unless we do their chores for them,” Alisaie grumbled, huffing and puffing her way back from the lake with a full bucket of water. Il Mheg was, for her at least, a place whose beauty was sharply dampened by its residents. Honoura kept her comments to herself; personally, there were worse tasks to be given. Watering topiaries here differed in no way from tending her own plants back on the Source. 

Plus, she had free entertainment. Alisaie’s grouching had kept a wry smirk plastered to the hyur’s face. _ I suppose it’s obvious who the younger twin is. _When the girl tripped and almost lost half her cargo, Honoura bit her lower lip to stifle a giggle. The two were halfway finished watering some of the more parched bushes when Honoura said what they’d both wondered, silently.

“Alisaie?”

“What now?” she asked.

“Do these plants seem.” Honoura pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking,”It’s just. They seem rather… _ lifelike _ ?” Her bucket empty, she stood on it to get a closer look at the face of the leafman. The expression was one of bewilderment, like someone had caught a bush by _ surprise. _ It was impressive really, how one could make out a cheekbone in a bush. And now that she looked down…   
  
“Am I going mad, or do those look like the remnants of shoes?”

Alisaie knelt for a closer look, fingers reaching through the foliage around the ‘foot’ area of the bush to fish out the half-rusted remains of a shoe buckle.

“Oh! What helpful mortals you are, looking after our leafmen!” The chirping voice startled them both. Honoura wobbled, flailed, and righted herself to avoid a fall. Both stared at the pixie, who sat atop the leafman’s head, kicking their feet back and forth joyfully.

“Aw, shucks! You kept your balance,” they chortled,”You have our thanks for doting on our leafmen so well. We do adore them so!”

“So we see,” Honoura commented, eyes casting about and noting that there were… quite a lot of those plants, and feeling uneasy about it.

“Which of you is the talented artist who designed them?” Alisaie asked, and they both regretted she said that.

“Oh, they’re rather easy to make! We pixies love playing with mortals, but you always want to stop so soon. You complain that you’re _ tired _ or _ hungry _ or _ old _ or something silly like that,” the pixie huffed,”So when we find one we want to keep, we turn them into a leafman!”

“They’re… people?”

“Well of _ course _ silly! Who wants to do things the long way like you mortals do.” The pixie doubled over, giggling.

Honoura and Alisaie exchanged a look with one another.

“Right, time to find your brother, yes?” The midlander asked, her voice in a light, airy tone.  
  
“Absolutely. And Minfilia.”   
  
“And Thancred.”   
  
“Yes. Before any of them start to sprout.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #23: parched


	20. unctuous

There were two kinds of port cities. One type was Limsa Lominsa. Founded by pirates and it showed. Built on a rocky outcropping, connected by rickety bridges likely carved from the bones of old ships. 

Getting anywhere was a struggle, whether to the upper decks or through Hawkers’ Alley with your coin purse still on your person. People were boisterous, boastful, and more than a few were likely to shiv you in a back alley after dark if you were careless. Or if you violated the Code, but most citizens agreed then you deserved it.

It could overwhelm at first -- it had certainly done that to Honoura when she first came there. Looking back she marveled how she even survived her first year there, alone and friendless. But Limsa wore her true face to anyone and everyone. The city knew it was ale-soaked and bordering on lawless (sometimes). It was cutthroat, but at least you knew who was cutting your throat and why.

* * *

In contrast, Kugane was  _ lovely _ to the eye when one first saw it. The bright, cheerful colors of the buildings, the paper lanterns, even their  _ candy _ was delightful to look at. It never smelled like an overturned brewery the morning after and fighting was against the law. 

And it was full of the greasiest, slimiest characters Honoura had ever met. Every smile, every conversation had three different messages behind it. If you were lucky you got one, and the one you got hinged on whether you were friend, foe, or worst of all,  _ business partner. _

Sitting in Hancock’s office half-listening to him lay on an apology thick as lard reminded her of an old adage of her mother’s. Teagan Hawke, salty as the Rhotano, would say people that slick could ‘sell you a seaside home in the Sagolii’. Considering his boss, Honoura quietly amended it with ‘and Lolorito would charge you the heftiest interest rate and repossess the lot when you couldn’t afford the payments’. 

Her ears tuned in again just in time to catch the words “delighted to engage in candid speech with such a gifted youth”, “vested interest in making amends”, and “full support of the East Aldenard Trading Company in only the most discreet manners.” _Oh to hells with this_, she thought, rising up from her chair to wordlessly exit the office. Honoura turned on her heel, gave him a grin wide enough her cheeks hurt, and said,”If you don’t mind, I think it best I leave to wait outside before I start bleeding out the ears.” 

Whether he expressed any real displeasure at her remark after she left neither the twins nor Tataru would confess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #24: unctuous


	21. trust

“You!” Alphinaud sounded downright murderous.

“Me!”

“How could you?!”

“She had a little help.” 

“I expected this from you, sister,” he wailed, a brother long-used to betrayal and yet, still upset by it,” **Her** , on the other hand.” An accusatory finger was leveled at Honoura. The midlander suddenly found a cursory inspection of her fingernails more engaging than looking at Alphinaud. Her small smug smile implied she hadn’t  _ completely  _ tuned out his song of anguish.  But it hadn’t been her idea, so she let Alisaie run the show. He was her twin after all. That was sibling privilege.

“My dear brother,” she implored, advancing to throw an arm around her brother’s shoulders. He stiffened, the frown on his face deepening while his face grew redder. “Why so defensive? We just thought you  _ might  _ want a little help with your buoyancy problem.”   
  
“These are for children!”

“Tataru took Alisaie's measurements for them. It will certainly fit you,” Honoura did meet his gaze now, voice full of that soothing tone every elder sibling shared. Alisaie’s grin only broadened at having authoritative support. “Oh do try it on, we even made sure the blue matched your favorite shade! And it’s easy to inflate.” In truth, it was a very nicely tailored jacket, given its purpose. Tataru had outdone herself.

If only it hadn’t come wrapped in a gift box, delivered by his sister grinning like a fool. Maybe Alphinaud wouldn’t have felt quite so inclined to jut his chin in defiance.

“Absolutely not!”

“They’re only to wear until you’ve had more practice! Honoura swears she knows the perfect spot for privacy in the Vylbrand.”   
  
“I don’t need swimming lessons!”   
  
“You do a lovely impersonation of an anchor, dear brother.”

Honoura’s resolve faltered; she snickered at that one. The offended twin found a new target for his ire. “You are of no help! I’d have thought **you’d** know better than to encourage her.”  
  
“Alphinaud,”she said, and fixed him with a pointed gaze,”What**ever** gave you that fool idea?” When he looked at her despondently, pleading for mercy, she patted his cheek.

“You swim like you’re drowning. Consider it a favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #25: trust


	22. slosh

His stomach churned with every pitch and roll of the ocean just outside the hull. Aidan took a breath and realized that was an awful idea; he leaned over the bucket again. Above, Carvallain and the rest of his crew could be heard carousing. The contents of his stomach weren’t the only things sloshing tonight. His unfortunately keen nose smelled alcohol. Would that this were a hangover rather than seasickness. Why’d he have to volunteer to sail to Hingashi? Gods, never again.

He was neck-deep in nausea when a hand rubbed his back, gently. “How’s your stomach?” Lyse asked. Between her and the twins, she’d drawn the proverbial short straw on who got the lucky privilege of checking in on him. He groaned miserably in response. She grimaced, and quietly thanked Rhalgr his reply hadn’t been to throw up. “Hey! You didn’t throw up that time! That’s good news!” 

“Yeah, s’great,”he raised his head enough so he could at least look at something more pleasant,”How long did they say it’d take to get there again?” 

“A couple of moons.”   
  
“Kill me Lyse.”

“What, and go home to your sisters?”   
  
“Terrible accident, I died at sea, they'll understand,” he said, scooting away from the bin to lay down flat on the floor. Dark eyes fixed themselves on a knot of wood in the ceiling. Confident he wasn’t going to be sick anymore, Lyse scooted to sit beside him, fanning his face. The pirates above had started a rousing attempt at singing “Whiskey me boys.” It was almost,  _ almost _ soothing to hear.

"Any better?"  
  
"I'll let you know in a quarter bell if I'm not heaving again."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #26: slosh


	23. palaver

Alphinaud jabbed his elbow into her side, sharply. He had done the same a quarter bell ago. He would do it again another quarter from now. _ His aim is remarkable, _ Honoura thought, _ he's hit the same bruise every time _. 

In front of them, the same orator who began prattling on a bell ago still carried on. She remembered the gist of the convocation -- formal celebration of the liberation of Ala Mhigo. Hardly a lick of reconstruction finished yet, but sure, why not throw a party. When she first received the invite she demurred by way of tearing the envelope in half. The parchment barely landed in the waste bin when a series of arguments started over her choice of response.

> _ “Oh come on, you should go.” _
> 
> _ “Give me a. No. Three good reasons why. They just want me there for a show, Alphinaud.” _
> 
> _ “You didn’t even read the missive,” he countered,”Rather adept of you to divine its contents when you tore it in two.” _

Of course, setting parameters for a palaver when one of the opposing team’s negotiators is one Alphinaud Leveilleur had been a mistake. He refused to accept her simply saying ‘because I’d rather not’ as an argument. Nor was he swayed by her simply asking ‘what for?’ Ultimately, she lost the debate. Not that he came out further ahead -- since he insisted on arguing, she countered he should also attend.

Now here they were, both appropriately dressed thanks to Tataru, both resentful of being with the other. Honoura sat upright in her chair, back straight as a firepoker, facing towards the speaker. They were still prattling on, but with the facade in place she could let her gaze wander. 

They covered up the worst of the scorch marks with banners. A good choice. Ala Mhigan purple never failed to look good. And the square was well away from some of the worst of the street fights -- the walls lacked enough bullet holes for that. Heavier fighting a few blocks away. This area just caught some of the overflow. Probably from when the Garleans’ units started to collapse. When Shinryu was…

>   
_ She blinked, and the sky was a stormy array of colors. The dragon loomed large above her head, Shinryu’s roars blended with Zenos’s ecstatic cries for blood. Both could almost drown out the drone of the Echo. The scales rang out like steel; she smelled and tasted nothing but blood. Then it was over, and in the end Zenos took his own blade across his throat. Looking at her ecstatically. His enemy. His friend. His one friend. _

Alphinaud jabbed her again,”Come on, they’re standing for applause.” 

She startled, then rose mechanically. There was a roaring in her ears and no air in her lungs as hands met then parted, then met and parted again. One moment covered in blood, clean the next. Tataru had been so thoughtful to put her in purple today. It hid the scorch marks. Ala Mhigan purple never failed to look good.


	24. attune

"Don't you dare."

"So."

"I have for you."

"I am going to kill you."

"A question."

"Going to promote Alphinaud as my new brother."

"About your boyfriend."

"It'll look like an accident to spare Noura."

"Avali, I am  _ wounded. _ "

"Not yet but you're going to be."

"You don't even know what I'm asking!"

"Danny I swear if this about his member-"

"I promise to you, baby sister, I don't want to know if I'm right or not about his member."

"Then what do you want?"

"So since he's about, I dunno, a third crystal, do you think if you felt it up you'd attune to it?"

"You're a bastard!"

"I kept my promise!"

Strangely, Aidan ran rather quickly down the hall for someone pleading innocence.


	25. bargain

Bargains and deals are not what gods do. She knows that now; theirs is a world of do as you are bid. No matter the cost to you. Because their will always won out. Gods over time have cost her family, friends and allies, and a myriad of hapless strangers unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle. 

She tells herself this, every time it happens.  _ There’s no point to it. _ A thousand little offerings to the spirits had not caused her parents to walk out of the desert. Ten thousand words of written pleas in diaries and letters had never saved a single patient. And not one prayer in a century had brought back the stars, a sight she could do naught but relay in words or crude drawings.  _ It does not bring them back.  _

Unna holds fast to this; she’s not a hero like the ones in the old stories. No Warrior of Light, the way they really were. The way she remembered firsthand, long after almost everyone has forgotten and twisted the truth into something uglier. Misplaced pain had to go somewhere. She couldn’t save her home’s history from vanishing beneath the sand; she’d have made that bargain long ago. But she could save a poor old Mystel woman from turning into the nightmare that killed her lover. She could keep a parent’s last memory of their child from being a feathery cocoon.

Better to take what you could get. Joy and comfort would not be found in worship. They were found In a hand held. In an old tune her mother hummed. An extra piece of candy or a smile given. In retelling old memories… with a few embellishments sometimes. Save a little heartbreak after so many decades of bitter tears. The one good thing about working at the Inn is the mutual understanding; no amount of supplication will save any of these patients. A truth they reaffirm to one another day after day with nods, cleaning faces turning to plaster and carefully brewing poison for last meals.  _ It does not bring them back. It will not save them.  _ But at the very least, they could save them pain.

The viis had not kept count how long it’s been since she last pleaded, begged or made quiet deals at the end of a shift back at home. But the moment she saw her sister’s face, already fading in the Light is etched in her mind as the moment she has not stopped.  _ Not her not her not her please. Not her, please. Finish devouring Nabaath. Turn Rak’tika to ash. Dry what’s left of Kholusia’s seas. But let her stay.  _ She’d utter her true name aloud. She’d lay her heart stone out at the summit of Mt. Gulg, where the Light would never miss it.  _ There’s no point to it. The gods do not bargain.  _ But oh, how just this once, she wished they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last 3 prompts are for a First Shard character I have who is completely disconnected from MSQ. Unna is a viis who remembers the time before the Flood whose sister is dying from Light corruption.


	26. snuff

The snuff box sat atop a dilapidated dresser inside the windmill. Unna had haggled aggressively for it with a Mord antiques dealer and still felt she paid too much. But anything fished up from the sand was inherently treasured more greatly for its existence than its utility. Especially from before the Flood.

Some of the mother of pearl had chipped over the decades, and one corner had cracked. Otherwise it held up beautifully; Unna felt a funny kinship with it. After all, she'd been jostled around plenty since her childhood. Who didn't gain a few cracks and dents as they got older.

The contents were a mish-mash of precious keepsakes of the past five score years. A tiny pouch of seashells, tied with a faded piece of pink ribbon. A broken piece of Mjara's first pair of chakram. Some stones that  _ could be  _ pieces of Ronkan ruin. Or just stones made more important by a child's fascination with a new home. 

Lastly was a smattering of beads from a broken necklace, her favorites. Even now, she liked pulling one or two out to roll between her fingers. Smooth as pearls and ever cool to the touch, she couldn't remember if they were quartz or some other stone. The look on her mother's face when she received the complete necklace, however, was something she'd never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last 3 prompts are for a First Shard character I have who is completely disconnected from MSQ. Unna is a viis who remembers the time before the Flood whose sister is dying from Light corruption.


	27. darkness

Unna never considered herself a poet. Not a proper one anyway -- the ones who wrote beautiful lilting words about an emotion, or a fragment of time. Even less so a bard. Dancing was the closest to artistry she came, and even that she eventually set aside for the knife instead. Mjara had been her one student, and she surpassed her.

The true night sky, really brought out the maudlin poet nestled in her soul. Unna missed a lot of things about her childhood. Their parents, their people, their home, the food! Gods she missed some of the old dishes. Some of her favorite recipes read like death notices, the ingredients long extinct for failing to adapt to the new normal. But new moon skies, lit up with an ocean of stars, well. People always did want most the thing they were purposefully denied. A curtain of Light provided an effective blockade from such a gentle sight.

She did her best with the words she had to describe it.

“Spill a bottle of ink of the bluest sapphires across the sky. Now, take a thousand thousand handfuls of diamonds and sprinkle them into your puddle. That was a new moon night.” She explained, braiding Mjara’s hair before bedtime,”Now, a full moon was very different. The whole world became as black and white. The light was good then, softer. It glowed silver, and if you stayed within the moon’s sight she could guide you home without a torch. The shadows were pitch black and hid anything. When Light became too strong, those all hid underground. You have to dig to feel that Dark anymore.”

The darkness of Rak’tika was too green, she said. True night, true dark was blue-black like the deepest parts of the Tempest. Where the Ondo lived, where you couldn’t hold your breath long enough to swim down to see it unless you were a pearl diver. With darkness so out of reach, clearly the darkest sapphire she could find for Mjara’s heartstone was the closest she could get.

* * *

As decades passed, she found herself describing the color of night less and more the feeling of it. Grandchildren of friends her age never knew different -- what was it like to be in the dark Auntie Unna?

“Like being wrapped in a blanket by the sky,” she’d say, mixing a poultice and gossiping with a wide-eyed hume girl. It was the middle of the Eulmoran war camp, probably the least place for frivolity. But Unna knew it was better to take what you could get when you could get it,”Everyone and everything you know is asleep then, so if you were awake your only company was silence. And anything that only came out at night.”

“Oh! You saw nocturnal animals!”

“I may have snuck out a few times to have a look for myself, yes.”

“What’d you sneak out for?”

Unna just smiled widely in response and batted her eyelashes,”I think I will just keep those details to myself.”

* * *

Some nights, back home in her windmill, Unna draws the covers over her head. She closes her eyes and repeats her own words to her. Diamonds floating in a pool of ink as wide and deep as the oceans. The moon, silvery and shiny as a new gil. Shadows blacker than pitch. She has to remember, for the ones that don’t. She must remember for the ones who’ve never known Darkness. There was a night once. And until there was a night again, she’d carry it in her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last 3 prompts are for a First Shard character I have who is completely disconnected from MSQ. Unna is a viis who remembers the time before the Flood whose sister is dying from Light corruption.


End file.
